


Hell's Broke Loose In Georgia

by Chaz_1789



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Destiel - Freeform, Gabriel being a dick but in the best way, Humor, M/M, One-Shot, Prompt Fic, Sharing a Bed, Smut, or my attempt at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaz_1789/pseuds/Chaz_1789
Summary: A simple case turns into a not so simple prank....turns into something else entirely. A motel, a Trickster and a furry onesie. What could go wrong?





	Hell's Broke Loose In Georgia

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for a random generated prompt and I got 'Cas in different outfits' and 'bed sharing'. But it's been sitting mostly done in my files for....honestly about two years now. As sometimes happens, randomly got the urge and finished it this morning, so...yeah. Enjoy some lighthearted smut :)

"Change it back."

"That's not possible."

"What, you mean you can't just...vroosh it back to how you—"

"No, Dean, I can't just 'vroosh' it back! I can't do _anything!_ Gabriel has dampened my power, my...everything!" Cas barked, irritably. He paced slightly, his footsteps muffled.

"I'm cranky, thirsty, hungry and _tired_ , Dean!" He glowered darkly. "I swear I will make him pay for—" his sentence was summarily interrupted as, with a faint rustle, his furry onesie turned into a tutu. Dean barely contained a violent snort.

It had been pretty much another routine case, strange deaths, disappearing figures, shady goings on. The usual. The main difference being Sam choosing to stay at the bunker claiming that it was probably too simple a case for all three of them to go on, and plus, it'd give Sam some more time to research. Dean thought it might have been the two day drive across five states that Sam was avoiding, but he was right, it all pointed towards a standard salt and burn. So nothing too weird.

Until...they'd found themselves locked in their previously twin, now distinctly double motel room reading a note that had been stuck to a gift basket full of sweets that simply read;

 

_Candies, tarts, and Angel Hearts_

_~ G xoxo_

 

It was exactly 5 seconds after that that Cas' clothes had magically poofed into a tie dye shirt, Bermuda shorts and sandals, much to the astonishment of them both. And merely another two minutes after that until they changed again.

He had so far been dressed as a beach bum, a firefighter, a clown ( _real_ good thing Sam wasn't here) a lion and a prima ballerina. Dean had tried his best not to laugh, Cas was a towering inferno of rage, with his attire getting gradually more ridiculous by the minute, but he got the feeling that this was exactly what the Trickster was attempting to achieve; and that last outfit had broken him.

Dean turned away from Cas, desperately smothering his laughter with his hands, convulsing silently, but he wasn't fooling anyone, it was obvious to Cas that he was nearly in hysterics. Once he'd got his breath he heard the telltale rustling and Dean risked turning back around, ready to keep a straight face, and stopped dead in his tracks.

This outfit was nothing compared to the others.

Because it was, quite literally, _nothing_.

Dean blushed from his head right down to his utility booted toes and swivelled around sharply again. _What the fuck Gabriel?!_ But Cas seemed positively relieved.

"Well, this is distinctly more comfortable than the tutu," he breathed.

"Uh, dude, could you...drape a towel or something?"

"Oh. Of course Dean. I forgot that most humans have frankly quite ridiculous hang ups about bodies," Cas stated bluntly.

"It's not that I got a—a problem with bodies Cas, it's just—" but Dean wasn't sure where that sentence had been going. Nevertheless, he heard Cas move to the bathroom and then return.

"It's ok Dean, you can turn around now." So Dean turned and sure enough the most...affecting part of Cas had been covered with a thin motel towel. But barely. His broad, tan chest was still on full display, along with those wide sculpted shoulders and the towel was perched sinfully low on his slim hips. Honestly, Dean wasn't sure quite how much better this state of affairs was.

That was, right up to the point at which the towel vanished too. Then he definitely missed that towel.

Heat flared up through Dean again and he averted his eyes quickly to the stained ceiling as Cas grumbled exasperatedly "Oh-  _really_ , Gabriel?!"

"Well, uh, it's fine, it's fine all the other outfits changed after a couple minutes I'm sure he'll have you back in spandex in no time!"

"I'm thrilled," deadpanned Cas, his gravelly voice seething with fury and cutting through Dean like a hot knife through butter.

But as it turned out the outfit did not change. The minutes dragged on, and so did the nudity. Dean had decided in place of anything constructive to do he would clean his firearms on the small rickety motel table, back to Cas, all the while sending up prayer after prayer to a certain dickish archangel to cut. the. crap! Dean didn't know his endgame but he sure as hell wasn't happy about the effect this was having on Cas.

He was crazy thirsty and seemed to be getting more exhausted by the second. It worried Dean the closer Cas got to human.

"Dean, I have to rest, I can't take this anymore." He sounded irritably resigned. Well, it was late.

"Uh, sure dude, you take the bed, I'll take the..." He glanced around the thoroughly bare room, "..floor."

"Dean, the bed is quite big enough for two people."

"Cas, you're naked. Kinda makes it a bit..." he trailed off.

"I can only foresee that it would make any difference if we were related or if you were sexually interested in me, and I don't think either—" Cas cut off abruptly as he saw from behind the effect his last words had on Dean. He'd stiffened (in all senses of the word) and was standing stock still, hands gripping the edge of the Formica table tightly.

"Oh." A pregnant silence stretched between them. "Dean, I—"

"No, Cas. Its fine. It's not an issue," Dean rebuffed, adopting what he hoped was a casual tone and loosening his stance, throwing a quick look over his shoulder. "Seriously, it's not weird, just, make sure to stay on your side, okay? Who knows maybe Gabe will be bored of this by morning and you can go back to being a celestial bank manager."

Cas hesitated for a moment before climbing into the far side of the bed and relaxed into it the second his head hit the pillow.

Futilely, Dean tried the door once more before resigning himself to the inevitable. He had an incredibly strong impression as to what Gabriel's game plan was now, that feathery dickbag. But he wasn't gonna let it get to him! _Deep breath, Winchester_. His eyes were scratchy as he desperately fought exhaustion, but it was too late for this shit, and he climbed into bed.

 _This how you get your rocks off, you sonofabitch?_ were Dean's last, pissed off thoughts before he drifted off too.

~ // ~

Dean awoke with a hell of a lot less on than he'd gone to bed in. He also awoke to the distinct yet unfamiliar sensation of being...a little spoon. Cas had abundantly violated the Stay On Your Side rule by about a whole beds width. Dean froze, painfully aware that he could feel _everything_. Cas' temporary humanization obviously gave rise to...rising.

And here it was, the headliner to the list of 'Most Awkward Things That Could Ever Happen To Dean Winchester Ever Including That Incident In Third Grade With The Class Tortoise'. Not that Cas seemed to be aware of anything excruciatingly embarrassing. Nope. He was still sound asleep and quite obviously having a _very_ good dream!

Dean tried to extricate himself gently, endeavoring not to wake Cas, but the angel was having none of it. His arms simply held on tighter and...oh _Jesus_ , his hips started a slow grind against Dean's butt as he moaned out a quiet yet unmistakable " _Dean_." And as Dean froze like a bunny in headlights again at this obviously not 'best buds' move, Cas' hand slid salaciously down his torso, tracing a damn clear path towards his junk.

Ok, this was far enough!!!

No sleep humping! Dean snagged Cas' wrist mid journey and turned himself over to face him, "Cas, buddy wake up. C'mon..." He shook Cas by the arm he'd not dared release.

Cas mumbled groggily, eyes barely cracking open. "Dean?" he said again, his crumpled confusion then slipping into a genuine smile before he surged forward and kissed Dean deeply on the mouth.

Well...that was...not what he was expecting!

And not fair! Not fair because he could in no way control the reaction that Little Dean had to being devoured by Cas, and that (full disclosure, not-so-)little guy was proudly standing to attention like a good soldier — Dean however considered it bodily mutiny.

Ok, so...he wasn't exactly _stopping_ Cas, or resisting as such...because, if Dean was honest with himself (as he rarely was) this was spectacularly freakin' hot. And he could— no, _should_ stop before he irrevocably screwed up his best-friendship with Cas, or worry about whether he'd regret it in the morning but...Cas just tasted so damn good. And this had kinda been burning away in the back of Dean's subconscious for years.

Then Cas broke away, looking a bit more awake and hella guilty. "Dean," he gasped, "I'm sorry, I didn't ask–"

That was as far as Dean let him get. He yanked Cas forward by the back of the neck and ran his tongue back into Cas' mouth. The answering moan he received sounded raspy and desperate. And Dean echoed his sentiments exactly, because finally getting his insanely powerful angelic best-friend-and-also-sort-of-love-of-his-life in bed? Oh yeah.

Plus, corrupting an angel? _Hell_ yeah.

Oh, he was a bad man.

But then, Dean Winchester never claimed to be a good one.

Although it might be a stretch to call it 'corrupting' when said angel was actually the one reaching between Dean's legs and grasping a handful of him. There was a small pause as it seemed Cas registered just exactly what kind of state Dean was already in –ready to hammer nails– and he groaned against Dean's mouth. Oh, those vibrations were heading directly south! Not that he could get that much harder by this point.

Cas may not have had much time as a human under his belt but he sure as hell knew what to do with his hand! He pumped Dean in swift, sure movements all the while kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Dean felt fourteen again, overwhelmed by the crescendoing pleasure and also unsure as to what he should do next, it's not exactly like he had any previous experience of this to draw on.

But Cas seemed to know what to do _and_ what he wanted, as he swung his leg over and rolled Dean onto his back. He took him in for a minute, hungry eyes having lost all trace of sleep and he leaned in to Dean's ear, Cas' hot breath ghosting across the shell of it, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his flesh as he panted.

"Dean, can I— I want to..." he breathed, sounding wrecked.

"What do you want, Cas?" Dean was thoroughly embarrassed at how broken his voice came out.

"I want to taste you."

And better carve the tombstone now because Dean pretty much died at that moment. Well, better give the man– angel what he wanted. Dean nodded quickly, eyes never leaving Cas' face which in a split second disappeared impatiently down to Dean's chest -kiss- stomach -kiss- happy trail -kiss- _oh Jesus_ -kiss-

_Holy crap_

Dean's brain stalled. How was it meant to do anything else with his best friend – _an angel_ – going down on him? And exactly when did Cas learn how to do that?! He felt his eyes practically roll back into his head as Cas just went to town down there, apparently not in possession of two things;

One: the need for oxygen.

Two: a gag reflex.

Dean Winchester's famously long fuse during sex was running embarrassingly short in the face of all this. He buried his hands in Cas' short, dark, thick hair and desperately tried running through every US President in chronological order, because he was in danger of shooting off any goddamn second now.

Cas chose that moment to do a wickedly dexterous thing with his tongue and Dean's fists clenched involuntarily in his dark mane. Cas let out a deep guttural moan that vibrated all around the right parts of his anatomy and that was it – no lists were gonna keep Dean from catapulting into that glorious abyss and emptying himself into Cas' waiting mouth.

Thank fuck for his already much appreciated lack of gag reflex! Dean's hips were bucking and jerking, which would have been uncomfortable and messy for anyone who still had one. Probably uncomfortable for anyone who was full human (there was nothing gentle or coordinated about how they were moving). After the supernova in his brain died down, bone deep satiation started seeping through his body like all his energy had just been shot down Cas' throat.

With a filthy pop Cas pushed himself up on his arms. Dean cracked his eyes open and drank him in, in all of his puffy lipped, pink cheeked, debauched looking glory.

Without thinking about it (thinking was about as likely for Dean as climbing freakin' Everest right this second) Dean pulled Cas up by the shoulders, licked his palm and reached down to reciprocate as best he could manage while being clinically brain dead. He'd only ever done this to himself before but that didn't seem to matter to Cas, who dropped his head onto Dean's shoulder and kissed it as he moaned gently, bucking his hips to the rhythm of Dean's fist.

Once Dean had regained a bit more cognitive function he began to fully appreciate the weight of Cas in his hand, the way Cas' hot breath hit his neck, goosebumping his skin, the small abortive noises in Cas' deep baritone right by Dean's left ear. God damn it, they could have been doing this for _years!_ With his free hand Dean gripped Cas' firm shoulder, well, more like clung to him, kissing the side of his head, afraid to say anything, but wanting to say plenty.

Cas didn't exactly show him up in the stamina department. Dean couldn't have been working him more than a minute and a half before he froze up above Dean, shuddered and then released himself hotly over Dean's stomach and chest with a rough, sandpapery growl that juddered right down to Dean's toes. He stopped convulsing and just hung over Dean, panting, head down.

He finally looked up to Dean, his blue eyes unfocused but warm, and gave him a sort of shell-shocked smile which Dean mirrored back. Then he collapsed. And when six solid feet of divine muscle falls straight on top of you, it kinda knocks the air outta your lungs!

But it was clear, no matter how winded Dean was, that Cas was not going anywhere. So, despite the mess he knew he would regret not cleaning up, Dean gave in to what his orgasm had been pushing him to do since it happened, and passed out; Cas attached to him like a limpet once more and Dean's arms wrapped securely around him in return.

~ // ~

The next morning, as Dean crawled, sated and wrecked, into consciousness, he spotted a familiar dark suit, blue tie and long tan trench coat draped over the back of a miraculously re-materialized chair.

He sighed.

Gabriel. Freakin' genius.

He'd be getting his own gift basket.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just because this is a pet peeve of mine as a musician (and I used the word in this fic) the word Crescendo means to get louder/to build, it is NOT synonymous with climax. I've seen published authors make this mistake and I just want to give their editors a shove for not catching it! So, there you go, for anyone unfamiliar with the actual meaning. Anyhoo, that's my random music nerd rant out of the way – kudos and comments are always super lovely. Thanks for reading <3


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